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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029223">aiming for smug superiority</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickedshins/pseuds/kickedshins'>kickedshins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Rivals to Lovers, academic competition but make it sexually charged, there's a prom bathroom scene yes i am a gleek :/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:07:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickedshins/pseuds/kickedshins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia pockets her lipstick, eyes flashing to Buffy in the mirror. She turns around, leaning back against the sink. “Was that supposed to be aggressive? I’m pretty sure it started out as an attack, but it sure as hell didn’t end as one.”</p><p>Buffy throws her hands in the air. “You’re impossible, Cordelia.”</p><p>“I mean, I’m not mad about it. Thank you. And you’re going to do wonders here in California.”</p><p>The sincerity in her voice shakes Buffy to her core. It makes her even more antsy. It makes her want to tackle Cordelia, just a bit, and she’s still figuring out if a hit or a kiss would follow.</p><p>or</p><p>Buffy and Cordelia are competing to do better than each other in school. To prove themself better than someone they dislike, of course. There's no other reason. And there are certainly no other feelings involved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cordelia Chase/Buffy Summers, Xander Harris &amp; Willow Rosenberg &amp; Buffy Summers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>aiming for smug superiority</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is the flimsiest excuse for a "plot" that i've ever come up with i just wanted to write a bunch of buffycordy arguing and then ending up going out &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Buffy and Cordelia are certainly not competing for valedictorian, because that would be a ridiculous fight. Willow has that in the bag. Has had that in the bag since the first day of freshman year, probably, and to think otherwise would be delusional. They’re not even competing for salutatorian, because there are smarter people in the grade, and, more importantly, there are better test-takers. </p><p>“You’re insane. You know that, right?” Xander tells Buffy.</p><p>She shrugs. “Not really. Just… driven.”</p><p>“Driving me to an early grave,” Willow groans. “Buff, can’t you lay off a bit? You’re giving my stress acne stress acne.”</p><p>Xander takes her by the chin and examines her face. “No,” he assures her, “she isn’t. Skin as clear as a summer sky, Wil.”</p><p>She shakes herself free, batting at his hand. “Thanks,” she tells him flatly. “Certainly needed your input on that one.”</p><p>“Hey, no prob,” he says, bumping her hip with his own.</p><p>Buffy claps her hands in front of her face, jolting the two of them out of their bubble. “Back to the point!”</p><p>“Right. Which was…?”</p><p>“I’ve got to kick Cordelia Chase’s ass. Academically speaking, that is, because if I did it for real I’d get in trouble, and I’ve already gotten in trouble for physical fights, and I swear, if Snyder keeps riding me about that, I’m going to go insane. It’s not my fault that I’m too strong for my own good!”</p><p>“Sort of is,” Willow said. “I mean, you make the conscious decision to work out.”</p><p>“Yeah, be like the rest of us and uphold your physique by consuming just a little bit of junk food each day and washing it all down with boy juice.”</p><p>“Xander, are you ever going to stop calling testosterone <em> boy juice </em>?”</p><p>“Nope,” he gleefully informs Willow, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close.</p><p>“Anyway!” Buffy says, voice raised. “Anyway. I need to beat Cordelia this year. I just… look, I know it’s senior year, and we’re supposed to be all wishy-washy happy bonding times and whatever, but I swear, if she comes up to me and asks what I got on my English paper one more time—”</p><p>“Do you think this vitriol is a reaction to something else?” Willow asks. She adjusts Xander’s arm so that his hand falls at her elbow. “Like maybe—oh! Regular admissions start to come out this week, don’t they?”</p><p>“And here I’d thought brainiac had forgotten about us plebs.”</p><p>“Xander, don’t be a jackass,” Buffy admonishes. “I know it comes naturally to you, but try. She can’t help it that she got in early to Superman’s Academy for Gifted Youngsters, or whatever.”</p><p>Xander takes in a deep, heavy breath. “I don’t even know where to start with that one. You’re so wrong. On so many levels.”</p><p>“Hey,” Willow says, pointing a finger in Buffy’s face. She and Xander are a force, a wall that Buffy knows she can’t break through. “Obfuscating. Quit it with the obfuscating.”</p><p>“Whatever do you mean by that?”</p><p>“You can’t play dumb when I know for a fact you only did about fifty points worse than me on the verbal section of the SAT.”</p><p>“Why did I decide to have a best friend again?” Buffy sighs faux-dramatically. </p><p>“You can’t take your college stress out on Cordelia,” Willow says.<br/>Buffy crosses her arms and lifts her head. She flashes a smile, that trademark Summers grin, the one that never fails to get her her way. “Oh, yes,” she says. “Yes, I can.”<br/><br/></p><p>“So,” Cordelia says. “What’d you—”</p><p>“A,” Buffy tells her without looking up from her lunch. “Cordelia, if you’re going to bother me, you could at least do it after I’ve eaten, couldn’t you?”</p><p>Cordelia gives a little <em> harrumph </em>. It’s a ridiculous noise, one that no one other than Cordelia could pull off without sounding like a complete idiot. “I didn’t want to forget to ask.”</p><p>“All of our lives would have been for the better if you had,” Xander says.</p><p>“Who asked you to be wasting space with your existence? I know I didn’t.”</p><p>“Who asked you to be a bi—”</p><p>“<em> Whoa </em>,” Willow cuts in. “I know we’ve got some animosity here, yeah, but there is no need to be dragging female dogs through the mud. Or for sexism, Alexander.”</p><p>Xander grumbles like a child that’s been refused a lollipop. </p><p>“Yeah, Alexander,” Cordelia sneers.</p><p>“Oh, no, you can stay out of it, you bitch,” Willow tells her.</p><p>“Hey!” A perfectly manicured hand jumps lightly to Cordelia’s chest. “I take umbrage at that, missy.”</p><p>“Ladies, ladies,” Buffy says. “Let’s all cool it, shall we? I got an A on my calc quiz, Cordy. Now, before you drag it out of me like a damn root canal, I’ll ask you what you got on yours.” She stands up, faces Cordelia, and plasters on an overly fake grin. “Well, hello there! Cordelia! Say, what did you get on that math quiz that we took last Friday?”</p><p>Cordelia flashes a smug grin and a paper with <em> 100 </em>written in purple ink across the top, and Buffy thinks she might actually pop a blood vessel with how hard she’s restraining the urge to deck Cordelia.</p><p>“I’m delighted for you,” Buffy says through gritted teeth.</p><p>“I’m not,” Xander pipes up from his seat at the table. “So, y’know, just jot that down.”</p><p>“I think,” Cordelia says, placing a pink nail to her full lower lip, “that we should make this a little interesting.”</p><p>Despite Willow’s vague background protests, Buffy looks Cordelia in the eye and demands, “Elaborate.”</p><p>“Well, there’s no glory in winning, is there? It’s not as if we’ll get a reward for that. <em> Rosenberg </em> made sure of that.”</p><p>“Just call me a slur instead of saying my last name like that, okay?”</p><p>Ignoring Willow, Cordelia continues, “So, since I can’t public recognition for the fact that by the end of the year I’ll have a higher GPA than you, how about you buy me dinner? Obviously I don’t need anyone to buy dinner for me—”</p><p>“We get it. You’re rich.”</p><p>Cordelia glares at Xander. “Did I ask the peanut gallery for their input? No. No I did not.” She looks back to Buffy, and Buffy can swear her expression has shifted. It’s not just that her eyes are less hard than they were when looking at Xander, because that’s to be expected. It’s something else, too. Her brow doesn’t seem as heavy-set, and she’s sucking at her lip a little. Buffy doesn’t expect to find that as entrancing as she does, and she’s so caught up in trying to pick apart Cordelia’s body language that she almost doesn’t hear it when Cordelia continues talking.</p><p>“Obviously I don’t need anyone to buy dinner for me, but when I prove myself superior by the end of the year, you’ll take me out and do just that.”</p><p>Buffy’s head is screaming at her that there’s more to this than that, that there’s an ulterior motive, that Cordelia’s going to somehow end up hacking into the school system and changing Buffy’s grades and sabotaging her future, but her heart is made of sterner stuff. Her heart is fire and steel, and so are her eyes when she grabs Cordelia’s hand and shakes it. Something shoots through her, something like electricity.</p><p>“Same goes for me,” Buffy says, almost as an afterthought. “When I win, you’ll do all that for me.”</p><p>“<em> When </em>,” Cordelia scoffs mockingly. “Sure, Summers. When.”</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit,” Buffy says.</p><p>“Language, dear,” Joyce admonishes her.</p><p>“No, Mom, holy <em> shit </em>. I got into Brown.”</p><p>The plate that Joyce is washing clatters to the base of the sink. “Holy shit,” she says. </p><p>“Yeah! Yeah! Oh, my gosh, this is amazing. This is amazing, right? It’s amazing?”</p><p>“Y–yes,” Joyce says, shaking her head in near disbelief. “Yes, it’s amazing. Oh, Buffy, I’m so proud of you! Not that I ever doubted you for a second, of course. You’re a bright girl, albeit… well, you know, you have your scrapes.”</p><p>“Snyder thinks I should be in juvie.”</p><p>“Ah, yes. Yes he does. But I’m not him, am I?”</p><p>“Thank goodness for that,” Buffy laughs. She lets herself get swept up in her mom’s embrace, burying her face in her hair. “Thank you, mom.”</p><p>“Of course, honey. I’m proud of you. That doesn’t necessitate your going, you know that, right? Like, for instance, if you got into Berkeley—”</p><p>“If I get into Berkeley I’m going to Berkeley,” Buffy assures her. “In-state college is cheaper, it’s nearer to you, yadda yadda. It’s not about the going, though, it’s about the getting in. And I got in! Jesus. I really got in.” She pulls back from Joyce’s hug and pretends she doesn’t see the tears forming in Joyce’s eyes. “I should, uh. I think I’m gonna call my friends and tell them about this, okay?”</p><p>“Of course. Just be tactful about it. You know how awful it is when people brag.”</p><p>“Mom, Willow got into Yale early. And Xander’s not going to college. Pretty sure neither of them care one way or another if I brag.”</p><p>“Ah. Okay. I love you, Buffy. And I’m so proud.”</p><p>Buffy smiles. She knows Joyce will always love her, knows her mom is always going to be there for her no matter what, but it never hurts to hear that reiterated. “Sorry for growing up,” she says.</p><p>“Oh, don’t be. We all do. Damned time, always moving too fast.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Buffy says softly. Her fingers tighten around her phone, around the email that tells her that she got in. “Yeah, it is. Well. Um. I’m gonna– gonna go shoot everyone a call, then.”</p><p>“You do that,” Joyce says, voice thick. “I’m going to finish washing these dishes and not cry.”</p><p>“Of course,” Buffy replies. “Not a tear in sight. No, sir. None at all.”</p><p>“I love you!” Joyce calls up behind Buffy as she bounds up the stairs.</p><p>“Love you too!”</p><p>Buffy doesn’t realize until the phone’s to her ear that she’s pressed the call icon next to Cordelia’s name. And once she does, she isn’t expecting the other girl to pick up. Still, she waits on the line, letting it ring. </p><p>It’s ringing loud, too loud, louder than usual, she thinks, and she’s just about to hang up when she hears Cordelia’s voice say, “Hello?”</p><p>“Is this Cordelia?”</p><p>“Yes, this is she. To whom am I speaking?”</p><p>“You really don’t have my number saved? Jesus, Cordy, you sound like a middle-aged attorney.”</p><p>“That’s a very kind compliment. Atypical of you, Buffy.” Cordelia sounds huffy, defensive. It’s a bit ridiculous, because this is just the rapport they have, but everything about Cordelia is a bit ridiculous. Sarcasm lining her voice, she asks, “To what reason do I owe the immense pleasure of this call?”</p><p>Suddenly, it hits Buffy that she’s ringing up her academic enemy to rub her college acceptance into her face. She weighs this for a moment, considers if it’s a morally acceptable thing to do, decides on <em> no </em>, and determines to do it anyway. “I got into Brown,” she says, and she’s aiming for smug superiority, but she misses that zone by a longshot and ends up tumbling ass-first into mildly disbelieving excitement. </p><p>Buffy realizes, in the silence that follows, that she desperately wants Cordelia’s approval. She swears she can taste her heartbeat on her tongue. Then, Cordelia says, “I got into Columbia. Yesterday.”</p><p>“Oh. Mazel tov,” Buffy says. “Uh, congratulations.”</p><p>“Yeah. You, too.”</p><p>Buffy hangs up before she can say something she knows she’ll regret. She sits on her bed for a minute, staring at her hands, thinking about Cordelia. Thinking about how far from each other Columbia and Brown are.</p><p> </p><p>It’s early May when Cordelia badgers Buffy publicly about her schoolwork next. She comes striding over to the Scoobies’ lunch table, hands on swinging hips, and asks, “So, history final project, huh? What are your plans for it?”</p><p>“I’m blowing it off,” Xander volunteers.</p><p>“I could not give less of a shit. Also, I wasn’t talking to you.”</p><p>“She does it ‘cuz she loves me,” Xander stage-whispers to Willow, who struggles to hold back a laugh. Buffy’s unsure whether it’s at Cordelia’s expense or at Xander’s.</p><p>“I didn’t really have any ideas yet,” Buffy confesses, which is a surprise, even to her. It’s not that she wants to be open in front of Cordelia, but it’s just that it’s surprisingly easy to be open in front of Cordelia, and saying <em> I don’t know </em>is terrifying, but it’s less terrifying than this five-foot-seven teenager.</p><p>“Oh,” Cordelia blinks. “Well. Me neither. If you want to bounce them off of me, you have my number. Just thought you might need someone other than the village idiot and your blindly loyal sycophant to give you academic advice.”</p><p>“Wait, which one of those am I?” Xander asks.</p><p>Buffy ignores him. “You’re truly a master of the backhanded compliment,” she tells Cordelia.</p><p>“Why, thank you,” Cordelia says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I try my hardest. And succeed.”</p><p>After Cordelia stalks off, Buffy sits back down with a sigh. Her body feels hot, face flushed, back tense, like she just finished a round at the punching bag. It’s frustrating. Cordelia’s frustrating. She manages to get under Buffy’s skin like little else, and Buffy hates that she’s so affected by her, but she can’t imagine it any other way. Honestly, the familiarity of Cordelia’s barbs and the sharpness of her teeth when she smiles makes Buffy feel comfortable in a way that very few others make her feel.</p><p>“It’s like pulling pigtails on the playground,” Willow snorts.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Cordelia. You know, she comes here, she pushes you around to make sure that she still has your attention, she leaves. Kinda sad, honestly.”</p><p>Buffy says, “Huh.” And then Buffy says, “Platonically, though, right? Because, I mean, the pigtails metaphor has some serious romantic overtones, and I’m pretty sure Cordelia Chase is straighter than an arrow, and—”</p><p>“You never know,” Willow shrugs.</p><p>“I never pulled pigtails,” Xander says. “Granted, I got my own pigtails pulled, but—”</p><p>“So you think she likes me?” Buffy cuts in. “Like, <em>likes </em>me?”“Boy, we’re really leaning into the whole lower school thing today, aren’t we, Buffster.”</p><p>“What does Cordelia love to call you again?” Buffy asks Xander. “The peanut gallery? Yeah. Put a pin in it, Mr. Gallery man. And, Wil—” Buffy leans across the table, dropping her voice “—if she did like me, I would... I don’t even know, honestly.”</p><p>“Well, do you like her? Like, like like.” Willow’s hands move as she speaks, and she nearly hits Buffy with her gesticulation.</p><p>“Uh.”</p><p>“She’s hot,” Xander says. “We wouldn’t judge you if you did. Except that we totally would, because she’s my ex, and you’d be breaking bro code, but I guess that only applies to dating, doesn’t it? So, no, we wouldn’t judge you if you liked her. Or just had a thing for her. Dating breaks bro code, though.”</p><p>“Well, good thing I’m not your bro. I’m a girl, in case you’ve forgotten. A–and I’m not planning on dating her,” Buffy adds quickly. She’s pretty sure she isn’t lying. “It’s just that we have this whole contest of grades, and I think you’re all confusing some competition that might be crossing from the unhealthy side of things to the healthy side of things as, like, soulmate stuff.”</p><p>“You brought up soulmates all on your lonesome, Buffy,” Xander says, poking Buffy in the arm. Willow nods her gleeful assent.</p><p>“Look, the bottom line is I respect Cordelia, but I’m in competition with her, and I sure as hell don’t have a thing for her. Plus, she sure as hell doesn’t have a thing for me.”</p><p>“If you say so,” Willow sing-songs.</p><p>“Oh, Jesus. This is going to be a topic of conversation until the end of time, isn’t it?” Buffy groans.</p><p>“Until the heat death of the universe,” Xander promises her. He takes advantage of her proximity to press a quick kiss to her hairline. “You’re stuck with us, baby!”</p><p> </p><p>The last month of Buffy’s high school experience goes by in more of a blur than she expects. She buzzes through her schoolwork with ease and with fervor. She’s going to Berkeley—she got in—and she knows all she has to do is pass her classes at this point, but the desire to one-up Cordelia is much stronger than the desire to slack off.</p><p>Cordelia corners her less and less about her grades, but Buffy doesn’t doubt that their bet is still on. She catches Cordelia watching her in class, catches Cordelia’s eyes on her neck, on the beats her fingers make against the wood of her desk. </p><p>And Buffy reciprocates, because it’s pretty hard not to. Cordelia is pretty damn gorgeous. It’s undeniable. Of course, classroom lighting isn’t very flattering, and Cordelia doesn’t sit close enough to the window for the sunlight to dance across her hair, or anything as disgustingly cliched as that, but that doesn’t stop Buffy from staring. Cordelia likes to chew on her pens, though she tries to cut it out as soon as anyone looks her way. Cordelia takes sloppy, ugly notes, and comes to class the next day with a neater copy of them. Cordelia sits front and center and raises her hand even when she doesn’t know the answer. Cordelia is pretty much a master at bullshitting. It’s a bit intimidating. And, if Buffy had to admit it, a bit attractive. </p><p>Prom rolls around, and Buffy spends far too long assuring Xander that his tux isn’t too big for him. Willow wears a green number, low-cut and ankle-length, and Buffy nearly forgets about her complicated feelings for Cordelia as she watches Willow pull her hair into a neat bun. Buffy herself wears baby blue and lets Joyce zip her into it.</p><p>She and  Xander and Willow all go together, and they dance until their feet hurt and their faces ache from smiling. She lets Xander spin her around for a slow song and falls over Willow during a fast one and she has a wonderful, beautiful night. </p><p>Cordelia has a date, of course. Some boy hanging off her arm, because when isn’t there a boy hanging off her arm? Buffy almost wants to corner her, to pick a fight, but she doesn’t know why. Besides, there’s nothing to fight about. It’s a nice night, and it’s a nice prom, and Buffy’s a nice girl, usually, so she fights the urge.</p><p>She runs into Cordelia in the bathroom. Cordelia’s putting on makeup, retouching her eyeshadow, and Buffy’s adjusting her hairdo.</p><p>“Fancy meeting you here,” Cordelia says.</p><p>“Positively elegant.”</p><p>“How’s your stag prom going?”</p><p>“Not stag,” Buffy tells her. “I’m with Xander and Willow.”</p><p>Cordelia makes a face, her perfect little nose screwing up. “What, like, romantically? Or—no, don’t tell me—sexually?”</p><p>“Jesus, Cordelia. No. We went together as friends.”</p><p>“Oh.” Cordelia snaps her eyeshadow case shut with a click and whips out a tube of lipstick. She applies it expertly, not straying outside the lines of her mouth. Buffy’s eyes track the drag of pigment against skin. </p><p>“You know,” Buffy says, because Cordelia makes her blood thrum and her body move and fighting for attention isn’t too far off, symptomatically, from throwing a punch, “you don’t need to be so horrible all the time. I mean, you’ve gotten better—like, leagues better, which is kind of sad, to be honest?—but you’re still relatively horrible, as people go. You’re mean to my friends, and then you’re sort of nice to me, and I can’t tell what you’re playing at. And you got into Columbia. And… and I never said congratulations for that, did I? Or, I mean, not properly. I never said it like I meant it. Which I do. Mean it, that is. So. Congratulations, Cordelia. I sincerely hope you enjoy New York. You’re going to make it your own. You always do.”</p><p>Cordelia pockets her lipstick, eyes flashing to Buffy in the mirror. She turns around, leaning back against the sink. “Was that supposed to be aggressive? I’m pretty sure it started out as an attack, but it sure as hell didn’t end as one.”</p><p>Buffy throws her hands in the air. “You’re impossible, Cordelia.”</p><p>“I mean, I’m not mad about it. Thank you. And you’re going to do wonders here in California.”</p><p>The sincerity in her voice shakes Buffy to her core. It makes her even more antsy. It makes her want to tackle Cordelia, just a bit, and she’s still figuring out if a hit or a kiss would follow.</p><p>“I don’t think I’m horrible,” Cordelia continues. “I think your friends hurt me, and I think I have a right to be vindictive about that. I think you didn’t, and I think that you’re good competition. You make me better, or whatever. You push me.”</p><p>“Oh,” Buffy says, and then she says, “Do you want to dance with me?”</p><p>The look Cordelia gives her is almost apologetic. “I can’t,” she says. “I have a date that isn’t you.”</p><p>“You don’t have to sound so upset about it,” Buffy snarks.</p><p>Cordelia’s lip quirks up, and she says, “It’s only because I am.”</p><p>And then she enters back into the fray of prom, and Buffy’s left with nothing but her feelings and a row of porcelain sinks.</p><p> </p><p>After graduation, Buffy and Xander and Willow go for In-N-Out. Buffy juggles complaining about her heels and scarfing down her burger, and Xander and Willow throw fries at each other. </p><p>“We’re done!” Xander exclaims. “Goodbye, hellish high school experience. Hello, future!”</p><p>“You’re so…” Buffy says, searching for the right word. She can’t find it.</p><p>“I am indeed,” Xander says.</p><p>“College,” Willow sighs. “We’re off to college. I’m off to <em> Yale </em>. Do you think I’ll get a girlfriend there? More importantly, do you think I’ll end up freaking out and changing my major and screwing up my credit requirements and rendering myself incapable of graduating in four years?”</p><p>“Uh, I’m gonna go with a solid yes to the first one, no to the second,” Xander says. “What’s the plan for right now, though? I’m not exactly a years-in-the-future kinda guy. Barely an hours-in-the-future kinda guy.”</p><p>“Shit,” Buffy says, realizing. “Shit, the plan for right now is Cordelia.”</p><p>“In English, please.”</p><p>“I have to find her. The bet, the whole ridiculous thing? It ends today. And, no, it can’t wait, because she’s probably already halfway to the airport to get on a plane to Europe for the summer, or something like that. I’m really sorry,” she says.</p><p>Willow gives Xander a conspiratorial look. “It’s fine, Buffy. We’ll be here for you after. Go get your girl.”</p><p>Xander whoops. Buffy groans. “She’s not my girl,” she tells Willow. “But, I mean. Well.”</p><p>Xander whoops again. “Go get her! You’re gonna be late!”</p><p>Buffy doesn’t know where Cordelia lives, but, as things turn out, she doesn’t need to. Cordelia’s car is parked in front of Buffy’s house, and Cordelia has a tanned arm hanging out of the rolled-down window.</p><p>She’s excited. Her heart is beating in her chest and her hands are shaking, just a bit, because no matter which way this goes, she’s going to be going out to dinner with Cordelia Chase. And, yeah, maybe Xander and Willow are right. Maybe Buffy does have a crush. Maybe she was lured in by competition and ended up with a boatload of feelings she’s having a bit of trouble sifting through, but feelings that she’s glad to have all the same.</p><p>“Hey, you,” Cordelia says. </p><p>Buffy bends down to look at her while they’re talking. “Cordelia. Hey.”</p><p>Cordelia blows a bubble with her gum and pops it. “Ready to take me to dinner?”</p><p>Buffy takes a step back from the curb, surprised. “What, you meant tonight?”</p><p>“Hell yeah I meant tonight. You’re not going to weasel your way out of this.”</p><p>“What makes you so sure that you won?”</p><p>“I have a three point seven. Canvas updates in real time, you know.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Buffy says, fumbling for her phone. “I know.” She pulls up the Canvas app and flips through various pages until— “Ha! Oh.”</p><p>“What?” Cordelia asks, voice full of barely-contained glee. “Sad you lost?”</p><p>“Nope. We’re at an impasse. I also have a three point seven.” She shows her phone to Cordelia as proof. “So, what does this mean?”</p><p>The look Cordelia gives her makes Buffy’s mouth go dry. “Isn’t it obvious? We both win, so we both lose. I’ll cash in my side of the bet today. You cash yours in next week. Now, come on. Get in the car. We have a date to get to.”</p><p>Buffy finds herself in the passenger’s seat before the weight of Cordelia’s words fully hit. “Date?”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” Cordelia says. “Isn’t it obvious?”</p><p>“Um.” Buffy says. “It is not.”</p><p>“I thought I was being pretty clear I had the hots for you,” Cordelia tells her. Buffy supposes she’s more or less without inhibitions now that school’s out, now that she’s realized that the high school pecking order means nothing outside of high school. “But, I mean, if you need me to make it any more evident, I can say it again. I, Cordelia Chase, want to go on a date with you, Buffy Summers.”</p><p>“Oh.” Buffy says. “Cool? Sorry, I just– what?”</p><p>“If you don’t like me back, you can just leave. No one actually won the bet, so I can’t exactly play that card.”</p><p>“It’s not that,” Buffy says. “I, um. I certainly like you too.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have expected it any other way,” Cordelia says, but despite all her fronting, her voice is heavy with relief. Buffy wants to kiss her walls down. </p><p>Something occurs to her. “Wait,” Buffy says. “Did you set this whole thing up just to get me to go to dinner with you?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Cordelia laughs. “I set this whole thing up because I thought I could kick your ass at academics. It’s a nice bonus, though.”</p><p>“Has anyone told you that you are a very strange person?”</p><p>“I prefer unique. It’s less pejorative.”</p><p>“You’re ridiculous,” Buffy says. She unbuckles her seatbelt and does her best to pull herself onto Cordelia’s lap. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”</p><p>Cordelia, ever the competitor, ever the winner, reaches Buffy first.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! kudos/comments always appreciated. you can find me @ commaperson on twitter.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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